To Dwell on Dreams
by Brie Cheese Eater
Summary: 6th year. Abandoned by Ron and Harry, Hermione dreams about a real best friend ... and discovers how special she really is.
1. 1st Night

**To Dwell on Dreams: ****I.**** 1st Night**

As Hermione stomped grouchily into the dormitory, she could hear Parvati's high-pitched voice wailing again.

"…and it was so _weird_, I mean I've known Seamus since first year and I never _once_ considered him as – well – boyfriend material!"

"That's not completely true," said Lavender.  "Remember those nights we used to joke about who would get together in our year?"

"But Lavender, he looked really _serious!  _I didn't know what to say, I mean I didn't want to hurt him or anything – but – oh, I guess I'll just have to go with him!"

Disgusted, Hermione dropped her backpack next to her bed and walked swiftly past them to the bathroom.

"He _is _sort of cute," Lavender remarked thoughtfully.  "And he's nice.  I wouldn't complain if I were you.  And it'll still be Hogsmeade…"

_I wouldn't complain about it either,_ thought Hermione furiously.  With the exception of the Yule Ball in fourth year, she had never really gone on a date with anyone.  Granted, she wasn't sure it was really necessary – she and Krum had done well enough with a school library, for heaven's sake.  But it still irked her to hear Parvati whining about yet another guy asking her out.

It was only the second week of sixth year, and Hermione was already sick of seeing people twenty-four hours a day.  She wished she had appreciated her parents' company more, back at home.  They were people she could truly relate to, people who understood what it was like not to think about romance or dresses or looks every hour of their lives – even their marriage had been a perfectly sensible, rational decision.  Sometimes she was really glad to have Ron and Harry as friends; at least they didn't – well – sometimes they weren't –

She brushed her teeth vigorously, splashed her face, and returned to her bed, all the time trying not to think about Ron and Harry.  Parvati and Lavender were still discussing Parvati's little incident, but Hermione took no notice as she flopped onto her mattress and began to mentally plan out tomorrow's schedule.  She gave up after a minute, when sleepiness began to take its hold on her.  Oh, that really had been a very, very bad day…

Ron was yelling at her for being such a swotty know-it-all.  " 'It's _Wingardium__ LeviOsa, _not_ Wingardium LevioSA' _– honestly, it's no wonder you've got no girl friends.'"

Hermione stood up and burst into tears.  Ron kept hurling insults until her tears began to flood the common room.  The water rolled like an ocean all around them.  Harry leapt to his feet, pointed his wand towards the floor and shouted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"  A silver otter shot from the wand-tip – but it was a _giant_ otter, which dived behind Hermione and lifted her off her feet.  She didn't scream, even as the giant otter splashed through the water and swept through walls, carrying her out of Hogwarts on its back.

The otter swam through the air, which wasn't really air, for some reason; it felt just as heavy as water, and tousled Hermione's hair as she passed through it.  The trees below lifted their leafy heads towards them.  Their croaky voices, garbled by the water, screamed, "Escapee from Hogwarts Prison!" over and over.  Hermione hid her still-damp eyes behind her hands.

When she had uncovered them, the otter was diving through an open door leading into a log cabin.  The air didn't feel so heavy anymore.  Strains of piano music could be heard from a nearby room.  Whatever it was, it was being played very impressively by –

A dissonant note interrupted the flow, just as the silver otter touched down.  There was the sound of wood slamming against wood.  A girl's voice yelled in frustration.

Hermione rose from the otter's back, a little shakily, and called out, "Hello?"

Something rustled on her right.  She turned – there was an open doorway.  A few seconds later, a ghostly head popped in from the side.

"Who's that?" it said sharply, before the whole body strode into view and stood before Hermione.

"I'm – a student at Hogwarts – from Hogwarts, I mean," Hermione said uncertainly, gazing at the figure with wonder.  It was a girl who looked, at most, a year older than Hermione – ignoring her whitish-grey hair, which was cut just below her shoulders.  Then again, the rest of her body was the same color.

The girl stared at Hermione for a few moments before speaking again.  "What's your name?  Why are you here?"

The thought suddenly struck Hermione that this silvery girl might not know what Hogwarts was.  After all, piano practice wasn't really a witch's sort of thing, was it?

 "I'm Hermione Granger, and I have no idea why I'm here, I think I'm just dreaming" – she wondered why this part of her dream seemed a lot less dreamlike than the rest of it – "and who are you?"

"Jane Smith," the girl said firmly.  There was a rather awkward pause.

"N-nice to meet you," Hermione finally offered, after wiping the last tears from her face onto the back of her hand.

"Well…er…why don't you come in.  You're dreaming, you said?"  She gestured for Hermione to follow her.  Hermione obeyed, all the while staring at Jane's face – there was _something_ familiar about her, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"I was just practicing the piano," muttered Jane, waving towards a baby grand in the far corner of the room they had just entered.  She flopped onto a small couch set in the middle.  Hermione didn't know whether to follow suit.  After about three seconds' deliberation, she did.

"So, you're from Hogwarts?" Jane asked her casually.

"Yes.  Do you know about it?"

"I used to go there.  Don't know how much it's changed since I left, though.  What year is it for you?"

"Sixth year just started – oh, I mean, well, it's 1996."

Jane's eyebrows raised, and Hermione became even more certain that she must have seen her somewhere before.  Perhaps Hermione's face registered recognition, because Jane quickly looked down at her hands.  "1996.  So Hogwarts made it that far."  She played with her fingers, looking thoughtful.

 "How long ago were you – did you go to Hogwarts?"

"A few years back," Jane replied airily.  Then: "What house are you in?  Or have they all merged into one big happy Slytherin?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing.  I was just wondering."

"I'm in Gryffindor."

A smile lit up Jane's face.  "Me too!  I mean, I was. – Who's in Gryffindor now?  In _your_ year, of course," she added hastily.

"Well, in my year there's Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, er, Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom…Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas – I think that's it.  And me.  Should I go on?"

Jane was staring hard at her hands.  After a pause, she looked up and saw Hermione waiting for a reply.  "Oh!  That's all right, thanks.  Er.  Do you…do you _like them?  Those Gryffindors, I mean."_

Hermione was taken aback.  "Well, I guess I do…except…."  She grimaced, remembering yesterday's events.  "I don't know if I do now, anymore.  They're all a bit different from me, really…but I suppose I do like them.  I have to, I _live_ with them, don't I?"

"If that's the way you see it," said the ghost, a tad resentfully.  "Any of them your good friends?"

_What is she getting at? Hermione wondered briefly before answering.  With some effort, she managed to say, "My best friends are Ron Weasley and Harry Potter."  It was sad to admit it.  Ron and Harry were inseparable, and she felt like she wasn't really best friend to either of them.  Especially after yesterday…._

"Could you – could you tell me about them?"

"Why?  Do you know them?"

"Maybe.  Oh, I know I'm asking you a lot of questions.  Do you want a glass of water?  I'll get one, just a minute…"

With that, Jane stood up and walked rather awkwardly out of the room, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.  Jane was quizzing her about her life, or more specifically, what she thought of other people, which meant Hermione knew people that Jane was curious about…was it something to do with Harry Potter again?  Anyway, what kind of a name was "Jane Smith"?  Jane could have made that up on the spur of the moment, but then that meant she hadn't been expecting Hermione…oh, why was she worrying so much?  Wasn't all of this just a dream?

If so, she was dreaming that she was very thirsty…maybe her body had lost moisture when she had been crying and flooding the common room.  Wait!  How on earth was Jane to get a glass of water?  Ghosts didn't drink water!  She was reminded of Nearly Headless Nick's 500th Deathday Party, where rotten food was served so that the ghosts could pretend to taste it.  Ghosts couldn't even touch water, could they?  Or a glass!  But then, they wouldn't be able to hit piano keys either, and Jane looked fairly solid compared to Sir Nick…

It's just a dream, she reminded herself.

When Jane reentered the room, she was carefully holding something that looked very much like a real glass of water.  "It's been a while since I used one of these," said Jane almost apologetically.  "I don't need to drink anymore…I guess I could, but I haven't tried…"

"Thanks," Hermione muttered as she took the glass.  Slowly, she lifted it to her mouth, all the time wondering what it would taste like, whether it might even be poisoned.  Finally she took a sip and started in surprise.  The water was amazing – it quenched her thirst immediately.  Normal water seemed dirty and thin in comparison.  She drank some more eagerly; Jane watched, as if waiting for Hermione's approval.

"It's so clean," Hermione finally said, after downing the whole glass.

"Phew!" breathed Jane, "I have to admit, I was too scared to try it myself."

Hermione stared at her in disbelief.

"You were my guinea pig, I'm afraid."

"Thanks," Hermione said, almost laughing.  "Do you live here by yourself?"

"Pretty much.  It does get kind of lonely around here.  At least I have a piano, and a wand, and some spellbooks to read, but…"  She sighed.  "It's just not the same as being at Hogwarts, you know?"

"Don't start thinking Hogwarts is so great either!" Hermione warned her, suddenly bursting to tell someone what she had been feeling lately.  "Silly girls primping themselves, nobody being quiet in the common room, everyone thinking you're a grind and a know-it-all, even your 'friends,' who don't want to hang out with you anymore – _it's enough to drive anyone crazy_!" she shouted, violently shaking the empty water-glass in the air.

"Bad day?" asked Jane tentatively.

"I guess," Hermione admitted, looking very much as if she were going to cry again.

"I used to feel like that a lot," said Jane thoughtfully.  "I remember now.  I guess I had some girl friends, but I couldn't really _tell _them anything, you know?  Their brains worked differently.  When they shopped for pretty things in Hogsmeade I looked for books – I suppose I might have made better friends with guys, except the ones in my year were, to be honest, terrors."  She looked grim.

"Well," said Hermione a little shamefacedly, "I guess I couldn't really call Ron and Harry 'terrors.'"

Jane looked sideways at her.  "What _would you call them, then?"_

"I don't know.  Boys.  Reckless idiots.  No.  Boys, mainly.  It's just…"  She gritted her teeth.  "It's just that, well, now that Harry's godfather has died" – she thought she saw Jane's hands move – "Harry's always been brooding and he'll only talk to Ron, it's like they don't think I can understand because I'm not male.  So I think, fine, I'll just study while they do that, but then the common room's so noisy, so I go to the library, and when I go back to the dorm for the night I have to endure the other two girls in my year giggling and talking about things I really don't think are _important_ during school, especially – especially not when there's a war going on, I mean, there are brave witches and wizards out there risking their lives, just so that we can continue complaining about our silly little problems?  No, we should be learning as much as we can, in case Hogwarts closes down, or…I don't know…I guess I should calm down."

"I'll get you another glass – oh, well, let's see."  She whipped out a wand, a real, solid wooden wand, and muttered, "_Aquaporaro__!  Now drink up.  You know, I see what you mean, but maybe if you just tried to understand – that, well, some girls are happier discussing what we'd call silly trivial things, and in the end that's the point of this war, isn't it?  Freedom and happiness for people of all types?"_

Hermione put the glass down again and smiled wryly.  "How about me?  How about freedom and happiness for my type?"

"Oh, come off it, don't tell me you're not normally happy.  You're at a great school of wizardry, with teachers who look after you.  And doesn't it make you happy to know that once you graduate, you'll be able to do great work for the wizarding world?  You're the brilliant sort, aren't you?"

"No – well – maybe, a little.  I'd better be, with everyone calling me a know-it-all!"

"Well, at least you know that you have skills which are very much needed, and the drive to develop them.  At least you know that when you die, you'd have done the best you could with your life.  That's a huge comfort."

Hermione looked carefully at Jane, whose eyes were staring into the distance.  She wanted to ask how Jane had died, but thought better of it.  Instead –

"How do you know so much about me?"

Jane looked at her sharply.  "I have my sources," she answered mysteriously, then grinned at Hermione's bewilderment.  "Okay, so I'm not alone _all_ the time.  I do leave the house to visit others" – (Others?) – "but very occasionally, and I'm not used to visitors.  I guess I haven't been very fair to you, since I haven't told you much about myself yet – oh – goodness."

Hermione had just yawned very loudly.  Suddenly she was incredibly sleepy, but she fought to keep her eyes open.

"You look really tired, maybe you'd better rest – I mean, wake up, that is."  The giant silver otter sauntered into the room and up to Jane, to remind them that it was still there.  "Yes, I think you'd better take her back now," she murmured, stroking its fur.  "Goodnight, Hermione Granger – it's been good to meet you at last."

Perhaps Hermione was just dreaming in her dream, but Jane seemed to have gained a tinge of color.

(Edit on 13 September 2003: I corrected the date to make it 1996, instead of 2004 as I originally wrote.)


	2. 2nd Day and Night

**To Dwell on Dreams: II. 2nd Day and Night**

Hermione's eyes flipped open.  She was back in her four-poster bed.  Dim daylight shone past the curtains.  Lavender was still asleep next to her, but Hermione was, oddly enough, wide awake.  What time was it?  She sat up and took her watch from the night-table.  This was about the time she would normally wake up – how convenient.  Without a trace of lethargy, she got up and headed for the bathroom.

Then she stopped, remembering something.

She had had a dream, a dream about a girl named Jane Smith.  They had been in a log cabin, talking about…life, and…Gryffindors.  Jane had made a bitter comment about all the houses merging into one Slytherin…hold on!  What was the meaning of that?

Could it have been a prophecy?  It couldn't have been just a dream; it had been too real!

_Get a grip, _said a voice in her head.  _You know visions and predictions are a load of superstitious nonsense…_

But there _were _real prophecies.  After all, last year Harry had smashed one about himself, in the Department of Mysteries!  Wasn't that right?

It was a good thing that brushing her teeth required little concentration.  Her mind was overloaded with the task of sorting out memories.  What had happened yesterday, before the dream?  She had been in the common room while Ron and Harry were talking.  They had been talking about…Sirius, again, yes, that was it, that was always it.  Harry never stopped talking about Sirius.  But last night he and Ron had sat a good distance away from Hermione, and she couldn't remember why they had.  An uneasy feeling crept over her – the feeling she got whenever she suspected that something was her fault.  And then she remembered the reason.  Herbology class!  While they were working on the same Giggly Gaschewer, Hermione and Ron had started bickering again.  It was about something trivial, she recalled, but the argument had grown into a yelling match by the time they got to Defence Against the Dark Arts.  Harry had had to sit between the two at dinner, and in the common room he sat with Ron…

_"I can't go on with it," said Harry.  "I keep remembering how Sirius watched from the stands, and then I forget why I'm there...I'll just mess things up for Gryffindor if I play!"_

_"Ginny isn't half as good as you, and you know it!" Ron insisted._

_"With her mind on the game, she'll be loads better…"_

_Hermione stood up and walked over to Harry's armchair.  She couldn't stand Harry talking like this.  "Harry, I really doubt Sirius would have wanted you to drop Quidditch on account of him…"_

_Ron whirled around to face her.  "How would you know?  He wasn't your godfather!"_

_"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione snapped.  "You know Sirius, he wouldn't be very happy –"_

_"Hermione, shut up about things you don't understand!  Stop nosing around in other people's business!"_

_Hermione felt the heat rush into her face.  Harry muttered a weak "Ron…"_

_"Well, FINE!" Hermione shouted, looking at both of them with rage.  "So you're 'other people,' I'm just this girl who hangs out with you almost all the time, who you can leave out when you feel like it.  Of course I would never understand you because I'm not a boy!  I'm just a book that gives you answers when you need help on homework, or even when you're trying to do brave deeds but you're too stupid to figure out how to go about it –"_

_"Nobody's asking you to hang around us!" roared Ron.  "You could just go and hang out with some proper girl friends, if that's what you want!!"_

_Hermione stared at Ron, speechless.  She was acutely aware that everyone else in the common room had turned to look at her and Ron.  Finally, her voice cracking, she said, "You know perfectly well that I haven't got any 'proper girl friends.'  You know I could never hang out with normal girls.  But if you two hate my company so much, I don't care.  Just don't expect anything from me ever again!"_

_With that, she grabbed her textbooks and parchment in both arms and crawled out the portrait hole, heading for the library._

Hermione closed her eyes.  Could it be true, could that scene really have taken place just yesterday evening?  That was so horrible…and, of course, that meant she couldn't possibly look at either Ron or Harry today.  Or tomorrow.  For a while.  Until _someone _apologized.

Well, one thing was for sure.  She wouldn't be the one to do it!

She went on with getting herself ready for classes, all the while seething about Ron's behavior.  It was only when she turned on the shower and felt the water splash through her fingers that she thought, once again, of Jane Smith.  Now there was a girl she could be friends with.  Of course, Jane was a ghost who'd only shown up in a dream, which posed a slight problem.  Hermione smiled slightly, marveling at how pathetic she sounded even to herself.

Though really, Jane Smith did puzzle her…

The morning passed uneventfully, for the most part.  During breakfast Hermione ignored Parvati and Lavender, concentrating on the Daily Prophet instead.  (_"HOGSMEADE UNDER SIEGE BY DEATH EATERS" _– Hermione's first thought was, "Parvati would be glad," though she wanted to slap herself immediately afterwards.)  She took care to sit far from Ron and Harry whenever possible in the classes they shared.  In Potions she paired up with Neville, thus saving the class from another disastrous explosion.

By lunchtime, however, Hermione was tired of not speaking to her best friends.  She remembered her third year at Hogwarts, when her loneliness coupled with a crushing workload had made that year the most miserable of her life.  Maybe it wasn't worth waiting for Ron to realize that he was at fault; maybe she'd better pretend she was sorry and have things go back to the way they were.  But that could wait till the evening.  In the meantime, since she was friendless, she could go to the library and actually get some work done.

She sat down at a table and unpacked her bag.  A minute later, she had her nose comfortably buried in her Ancient Runes book.  But a nearby huddle of whispering Ravenclaws stole her attention away from its pages.

"…Cho doesn't like him anymore, I heard they ended on a pretty awful note…but the fact that she's still worried for him makes you wonder how bad it really is…"

"Why haven't they done something?  Why is he still going to school when You-Know-Who could kill him any minute?"

"Well, we've got to remember that Dumbledore's the greatest wizard –"

"But he's so old, he could die any minute and where would Harry be?"

"Parvati told me he's not that great at his classes either –"

"Look!"

There was a sudden hush.  Hermione pretended to be deeply engrossed in her textbook.

Finally, someone said, "At least he's got her for a friend – you can't say she's not great at her classes."

Hermione was halfway between snorting and smiling, but she fought the urge to do either.  Yes, they flattered her, but perhaps only to make up for their criticizing one of her best friends.  Still, they had inadvertently posed another interesting question.  Where would Harry be, now that Hermione wasn't there to let him copy her notes?

Once again, Hermione nearly slapped herself.  They were talking about Harry being in danger – how could she be so vindictive?  She did worry about Harry, even if he didn't _act _like he was in danger.  He had gotten into life-threatening situations every single year that Hermione had known him.  But she had shared a good number of them herself, so she no longer really thought of him as being…_special_…

But he was.  He was the one Voldemort was after.  He was the one whom Voldemort hated, upon whom Voldemort would find any means to take his revenge….  Despite everything that had happened yesterday, Hermione berated herself for the times she had secretly resented Harry's continued grieving over Sirius.  Who knew how many other troubles he kept to himself!

At exactly nine o'clock, an exhausted Hermione climbed through the portrait hole.  She dimly registered a large notice on the board announcing the suspension of Hogsmeade visits until further notice.  Between the end of classes and now, she had essentially locked herself up in the library.  She hadn't even eaten dinner.  Her teachers had dished out a heavy workload today, especially in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.  Besides, now that she couldn't hang around Harry and Ron, conversation at the Gryffindor table wasn't worth the time.

 The growling in her stomach had completely subsided after about an hour.  She was pleasantly surprised – the next time she was piled with work, she would know she had the option of skipping a meal.  But she was so tired…

She didn't even look at Harry or Ron as she headed to bed, thinking only of how comfortable it would be to lie on a mattress and let sleep take over.  Her earlier plan to apologize to them was completely forgotten.

Ron stared after her.  "Not even a scathing look?" he muttered.

"I still say we should probably tell her we're sorry and get on with it," said Harry heavily.  "It's useless, breaking up friendships over silly arguments…"

"Why should we be the ones to say sorry?" Ron said indignantly.  "She's the one who's all by herself!"

The journey seemed much shorter this time, though the way was impossible to follow.  Just when Hermione and the otter had reached what looked like the end of the Forbidden Forest, the land below them trembled violently, as if an almighty hand were shaking it vigorously from side to side.  When the trembling stopped, they were swimming over a flat grassland.  She could see the log cabin in the distance: a lighthouse in a sea of dark, green-tinted greyness.

Jane was sitting by the back wall of the first room, as if she were expecting them.  She had her reading glasses on and was perusing a thick volume in her lap when they arrived.  Upon looking up, she immediately closed the book, set it on a small table next to her chair, and took off her glasses.

"Well, hello!" she greeted Hermione in a mock-surprised voice before bending over to pat the otter.

"Hi again," said a bemused Hermione.  There was no doubt about it – she could almost make out the colors of Jane's figure.  She ventured to guess that Jane had brown hair, but eyes that were _not _brown.  "Why am I back here?"

"Madam, I should like to ask you that myself," declared Jane with gusto, lifting her chin to the heavens.

Hermione didn't laugh; she was too busy being confused.

"Would you care to join me in a cup of tea and a discussion of our lives?" Jane pressed on.

Now Hermione had to smile; she had never met anyone like this.  "Why, I would be delighted!  How _kind_ of you to think of it…"

The night passed in a much cheerier fashion than before.  Hermione could speak freely of her breach with Ron and Harry, wrinkling her nose most elegantly and acting like she could care less.  Jane listened to her with a sympathetic ear nonetheless, which Hermione appreciated – for once, she was the one doing the talking.  Being advisor to Harry was nice in its own way, but when had he or Ron ever listened to her problems?  It made chatting with Jane so refreshing.  But there was still the question of why she was having this conversation in the first place…

"I need to ask you something," Hermione said after a short silence.  Jane looked at her questioningly.  Hermione continued, "Well, the possibility that you're a figment of my imagination is very likely…even if it's been two nights now…and I was just wondering.  Are you – a vision, or a prophecy, or – basically, who are you and why have I met you?"

Jane appeared to be weighing the matter.  Then, with an air of decisiveness:

"Would you like me to tell you about my life?"

Hermione was taken aback by this outright evasion, but she nodded.

"All right then," Jane said, sighing.  "Where should I start.

"I wasn't born in a magical family.  My mum was an English teacher; my dad, a surgeon.  My older sister was a Muggle as well.  We weren't the happiest family – my sister and I didn't get along, and my dad worked long hours, so we didn't see him too much.  But I was a lucky kid, 'cause starting early on, I did well in school.  It gave me – and my parents – something to be proud of.

"Then my Hogwarts letter came.  Well, that was an interesting time for my Muggle family."

"Mine too," Hermione interrupted, grinning at the memory.  She couldn't help it, and Jane had looked almost as if she expected Hermione to say something.

"Yes, bless our Muggle-born hearts.  It's lucky they sent Hagrid to fetch me after a few days; I don't think my dad would have settled for any less proof than Diagon Alley.  After that, though, my parents were ecstatic.  I guess they felt special, even if they weren't wizards themselves, just because now they were witnesses to a world completely barmy and insane – totally unlike the mundane one we had lived in till then.

"So I went to Hogwarts and loved it, even if I didn't love all the people.  Then in my fifth year my parents were both killed – w-we think, that is to say, I am almost sure, that – that they were killed when some wizards went – Muggle-hunting.  The Ministry covered it up – Professor McGonagall gave me the Muggle letter saying that my parents died _– in a bus accident at night_ – which was preposterous.  They both had their own cars and went home at different times.  We think – it was a nighttime hunt – people could get away with those things back then, the Dark Lord was rising…but I will always remember that I introduced my parents to the world that killed them.  That killed us."

"Killed – you?"

Jane nodded.

"Was it – Voldemort?"

She nodded again, then leaned forward and looked straight into Hermione's fearful eyes.  "I know this all sounds very vague.  Most things I have to say to you will be just as unclear.  I can't tell you all you would like to know, or even all that I would like to tell you – I'm sorry."

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat.  A million questions were darting through her head, but she was afraid to say any of them after what Jane had just said.  Finally she stammered, "S-sorry, I just need to – to ask you – d-did V-Voldemort kill you because – because you were Muggle-born?"

Jane looked at Hermione with a grave expression on her face.  "The Dark Lord only makes one distinction between wizards.  Either you are on his side, or you are not.  I was not.  And he is – unbelievably powerful – that is, he can kill almost anyone he cares to.  The best we can do is to learn all we can and to prepare ourselves, emotionally, to stand up to him.  Even if we die, it is a victory to have defied him during our lives."

Hermione was silent.  Finally she whispered, "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"I'm not a prophet," Jane said quietly.  "But remember what I've said, all the same.  Defy him while you live, and you are the winner.  Do you understand?"

Hermione didn't understand, but she nodded anyway.  She remembered something that had been bugging her since lunchtime.

"I'm worried for my friend Harry.  I don't know how he can go on with his life like everything's normal – I mean, he's really the one Voldemort's after, now."  Jane nodded, obviously having heard the story.  "And since – well – Voldemort killed _you_" – Jane rolled her eyes, which made Hermione feel a little less nervous – "is there anything you could tell me, anything that I could do that you think could – help him, somehow?"

To her surprise, Jane's pale green eyes twinkled.  "Well, well, we're catching on to the idea, are we?  But I thought you weren't talking to him!  Yes, there is something you could do that would help him immensely.  Tell him that you're sorry for blowing up at him and Ron, but you wish they wouldn't leave you out all the time.  Don't glare at me like that, you know you need to get it over with.  How can you help him if you won't go near him when Ron's around?"

Hermione sighed, though she was smiling ruefully in spite of herself.  Jane grinned back.  It was so unnerving that Jane sounded so wise sometimes, even though she looked to have died around Hermione's age.  Then again, it was probably easy for Jane to give Hermione advice when she didn't have to follow it herself, being a solitary ghost and all…

"Well, I think that's quite enough food for thought for one day, don't you think?" said Jane, interrupting Hermione's thoughts.  "You'd better be going back to bed."  She sprinkled a sand-like substance into Hermione's teacup and poured a little more tea into it.  "Here, drink this, it'll help you.  No more questions!" she added, when she saw that Hermione wanted to say something.

Very reluctantly, Hermione lifted the cup and did as she was told.  "I'll see you again tomorrow," she heard Jane say before she woke up.


	3. 3rd Day and Night

Hello there, this is the author.  I thought I'd let you know a couple of things before starting.

1) _To Dwell on Dreams _will have five chapters in total.

2) This chapter is very different from the first two, but don't worry – we do get back to the plot.  And Chapters Four and Five will be normal again.

I'd also like to thank Nini, little miss narcissa, Ash, and Charl for reviewing this fic.  Wonderful people, reviewers are…

**To Dwell on Dreams: III. 3rd Day and Night**

Mr. and Mrs. Potter were in the kitchen, fixing breakfast.  Lily was humming the upper part of Bach's Invention in F Major while mixing the pancake batter.  She missed their piano back in Godric's Hollow.  "James, I _wish_ you'd learn the lower part to this piece," she implored, turning to her husband.  James looked up at her and shook his head.  To top it off, he began to whistle "Accio My Darling," that ridiculous tune he knew she detested.  Well, there was no use in humming glorious Bach anymore, not while James insisted on whistling _that_.  She scowled and went back to mixing batter.  James, however, kept gazing at her earnestly.

After a few seconds, Lily felt his eyes on her and looked up.  Resisting the urge to grin, she looked at the stove and gasped, "The sausages!"  James jumped and snapped his attention back to the frying pan in front of him.  The sausages were fine, but Lily chose that moment to kiss him on the cheek.  James froze; then he slowly turned to the ceiling and flapped his hands like little wings.  Lily giggled.  Nothing had changed since fifteen years ago…nothing except for, well, trivial things.

For example, James knew not to expect the sausages to "brown" in the literal sense; he simply waited till the sausages darkened to a healthy shade of grey.  And Lily's Muggle upbringing came in handy, because magic didn't work here.  Their house was smaller and simpler than Godric's Hollow, with few decorations and absolutely no wizarding equipment…they had lost their jobs long ago…the list went on.

An uninformed onlooker might wonder how Lily and James could face eternity under these conditions.  But if there was one important change in their lives, it was the disappearance of true fear.  Without fear, the Potters didn't need wands, or stereo players, or portraits hanging in the hallways, to be content.  Even if boredom had ever been a possibility, Sirius's arrival in the neighborhood had removed it beyond a doubt.  Now, the only thing Lily and James had to worry about was Harry.

"Hermione Granger really is a dear," said Lily, cutting her pancakes methodically into small squares.  "Now I see why Edgar Bagman was so enthusiastic about that Oliver Wood boy.  He's right, it's like meeting your best friend a few years too late.  I wish I had more than five afternoons to get to know her."  She paused, frowning.  "Actually, it's more like four if you don't count the first afternoon, which was a _complete _waste."

"It wasn't your fault," James reminded her.  "How were you supposed to know she would meet 'Jane Smith' while you were busy rereading that silly Muggle novel?"

"I should have thought about it more!  When Sirius arrived and brought all that news, I should have immediately remembered Jane, I should have let her know!  It was ridiculous, she even had to ask Hermione what year it was and everything!"

James snorted.  "That _is_ rather hilarious…"

Lily narrowed her eyes at him.  "No, it isn't.  Just you wait till it's _your_ turn, and you're not on your guard….  You have no idea how horrible it feels to finish reading _Pride and Prejudice_, lean back, sigh with satisfaction and then suddenly realize you've just missed something very important…"

"Oh, you never told me – how are your meetings, now that you're actually consciously talking to the girl?  What's her name again?  I never manage to get it."

"She's Her-mi-o-ne, and she's sixteen, which means Jane looks sixteen and should act accordingly.  Rather good fun, I must admit, acting sixteen again and getting away with it…"

James swallowed what he was eating and gaped in mock horror.  "You, as your sixteen-year-old self?  God forbid you ever act sixteen to _me_ again – I'm not sure I could handle you always telling me exactly what you think of me."

"Oh, nonsense, I married you, didn't I? …. You know, ever since Sirius came, I've been wondering something.  He should be almost fifteen years older than us now.  Do you think he has to act younger when he's around us, to – I don't know, to fit in?"

"Well, the poor bloke was in Azkaban for most of that time, if you recall.  It might have taken away a good number of his, er, maturing years.  I'd guess that if anything, he'd have to act more cheerful to us, what with having hung around Dementors for so long….  I could ask him, if you're really that curious."

Lily's face lit up.  "Yes, why don't you, but how about we invite him over here for a change?  I haven't seen him for a while.  Jane will be meeting Hermione again this afternoon – I could give you two a live report of what she says – and I'm sure Sirius is dying to hear any news of Harry.  Of course we'd all like to hear it, but Sirius – well, you know Sirius."

"I have to admit I envy Padfoot, even if he was the one locked up for an age.  He got to do a bit of fathering I wish I hadn't missed."

"Just have to have it all, don't you?" scolded Lily.  "You never hear me make a jealous comment about Molly Weasley!"

"Well, my dear, don't expect everyone to be as noble-hearted as yourself," James said, by way of an apology.  Lily scoffed, but looked pleased all the same.  He continued: "Is it all settled, then?  We are having Padfoot over for lunch?"

"It would have to be either a late lunch or an early tea."

"Let's make that an early tea.  We could even have an early lunch to make up for it…"

"James!"

"Sorry, sorry, thought it wouldn't hurt to ask.  So roundabouts when should I disturb Padfoot from his racing adventures?"

"How about somewhere close to two o'clock?"

At 2:05 James walked out of the house and strode across the courtyard to Sirius's cabin.  He knocked sharply on the front door, but he suspected that the rumbling and cheering noises coming from inside had drowned him out.  He knocked again, harder.

"Come in!  Bloody git, can't he get out of the way…"

James lifted the latch on the door and let himself in.  A familiar scene met his eyes: the grey pinewood interior; to the right, an unmade bed; closed blinds all around; and Sirius with his back to James, staring at a black-and-white Muggle TV set and furiously beating a video game controller with his thumbs.

"Move, move!" he shouted at his motorcycle, which refused to speed up.

"Er, Padfoot?  PADFOOT!"

Sirius pressed a button on his controller.  The screen froze; the shouts and engine growls issuing from the TV ceased.  He turned to look at James, his face looking younger than it had when he was alive.  "Prongs!  I was wondering when you'd come visit me, I would have barged into your house if I weren't afraid of what Lily might say…"

"This is what Lily says: Would you like to have tea with us?  Right now?"

"Right now?!  But I'm in the middle – I mean – of course I'd love to.  Keep forgetting that I've got all the time I'll ever need to play these Muggle games," he explained sheepishly.

"Yes, but tea and scones will only stay warm for so long.  Lily looked rather proud of them, too.  And you know how she is about these things…"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Sirius muttered testily, shooting a longing look at the TV screen before shutting off the game.

"But she especially wanted you to come," James continued, "because she's meeting a girl called Hermione Granger and –"

"WHAT?  Hermione, Harry's friend?  She's not – dead?"

"No, no, far from it."

"But then how is it possible?  Wait.  Prongs.  You don't mean to say that Hermione's her – her –"

"Precisely my point," James said, grinning at Sirius's shocked expression.  "We thought you'd know her."

Having tired of piano practice for the day, Jane occupied herself by dusting the porcelain miniatures arrayed over the fireplace.  A soft thump in the next room informed her that Hermione was back with her otter.  Quick as a flash, Jane threw some powder into the fireplace.  Bright yellow flames rose from the ashes.  She didn't need them, but Hermione was still a mortal.

_"Okay, you two," said Lily to James and Sirius.  "I'll need most of my concentration for being Jane, but I'll try to repeat everything she and Hermione say."_

_James propped his elbows on the tea-table and rested his chin on one hand.  Sirius leaned forward expectantly._

Something large and furry suddenly threw itself against Jane.  "Well, hello again, mister!" she greeted the otter.  "Or missus, but I don't want to look too closely.  Glad to see me?"  She patted the giant silvery creature and walked over to the couch.  Hermione's head peeped in through the doorway.

"May I come in?"

"Certainly not!"

_"Abuse of privileges!" objected James.  "Only a sixteen-year-old could get away with a stupid reply like that…"_

Hermione walked in anyways.  "My otter can come in.  Why my otter, but not me?"

"Because your otter is clever and doesn't ask for permission," Jane retorted.  Hermione grinned and flopped onto the couch.  Close to, however, Jane noticed that she looked frail and tired.

"What happened to you?  You don't look too well."

_Sirius snorted.  "Isn't it obvious?  She's like you, she must have overworked herself again…"_

"Oh, I'm all right really," said Hermione with a bright smile and an oddly high-pitched voice.  "Just tired.  Long day.  Ended well enough, though.  I apologized to Harry!"

"Good for you!  Wait, what about Ron?"

Hermione kept smiling, looking ever so slightly manic.  "Well, he didn't really want to talk to me, you know?  But Harry was really nice…he offered to bring me food from the kitchens, 'cause the house-elves hate me…."  Her smile faded.  "Come to think of it, he never came back…and I never went to bed.  I must have fallen asleep in the common room!  How silly of me."  She laughed nervously, and Jane raised her eyebrows.

"Hermione.  What were you doing all day?"

"Oh, nothing much, besides classes…just a lot of work…"

"And why on earth did you need Harry to sneak out for food?"  Jane examined Hermione's figure.  She had definitely lost weight since yesterday.

"Well, I woke up late this morning, so I didn't get to breakfast in time…then I forgot dinner because I was in the library…"

"What did you eat for lunch?"

Hermione looked puzzled for a moment.  "I don't remember, though I know I did eat something.  But that's enough about my life!  I'm sure your life was a lot more interesting."

 _"I think she's been trying to find out who Jane is," muttered Lily darkly._

_"Do something to throw her off!"_

_"Ask her about Harry!"_

_"Ask her about You-Know-Who!"_

_"Shut up, both of you!" snapped Lily.  "I need to think!"_

"Well, _I'm_ sure my life was terribly boring," said Jane, "so let's just talk about something completely different.  Er, what's the news been saying lately?"

Hermione waved her hand carelessly.  "It's all about the war, how many Death Eaters have died, how many Aurors – oh, did you know Hogsmeade is under siege?  Half the students went mad when they found out…"

_"They put Hogsmeade under siege?!" yelled Sirius in disbelief.  "But how – how could they do that, how can they stop people from Disapparating, or other things?"_

_"Does anybody know about the secret passage in that statue of the one-eyed witch?" wondered James._

_"That lot would know, Hermione and Harry and Ron," Sirius told him, "they have our Marauder's Map…"_

_"Oh good!__  So it's become an heirloom, of sorts!"_

_"Don't be so thick," said Lily, "what if the Death Eaters find out about that passage into Hogwarts?  There might not be another heir at all!"_

"How about you?" Jane asked Hermione politely.  "What do you think of the siege?"

"It doesn't bother me," Hermione said, beaming madly.  "Oh – no – I don't mean it doesn't bother me that the inhabitants are in such danger – of course I feel very bad for them – but most people are just shocked because they don't know if they'll ever see Zonko's or Honeyduke's again."

_James muttered, "Well, that certainly puts me to shame."  Then he looked at Sirius and both men grinned.  Lily gave them a severe look._

Jane cleared her throat.  "Ahem, er…has the passage in the statue of the one-eyed witch been blocked yet?"

Hermione's grin froze.  "W-what passage?"

"You know!  The one that goes straight into Hogsmeade."

"I didn't know there was one…" Hermione insisted, looking extremely confused.  "That could be dangerous, couldn't it?"

_"What is she playing at?" snarled Sirius.  "She knows perfectly well what you're talking about!"_

Jane looked at Hermione with furrowed eyebrows.  "You know there's one…you had the map, the map with all of Hogwarts on it…"

Hermione looked around the room wildly.  Then she leaped to her feet and stumbled away from the couch, staring at Jane with a horrified expression.  She fumbled with her robes and whipped out her wand –

"_Expelliarmus__!_"

Jane's wand flew out from the right pocket of her knitted cardigan.  Hermione caught it with a shaking hand, her eyes still boring into Jane's.  She scuttled even further backwards.

"Hey!" yelled Jane indignantly, rising from the couch in a flash.  "What are you trying to do, kill me?!"

"Of course not, I can't!  But I – I don't want YOU to – to – I know who you are!" she finally blurted out.

"What's the matter with you?" Jane shouted.  "If you knew who I was, you wouldn't have just stolen my wand!"

_"I know what just happened," whispered James with a kind of horrified fascination.  "She thinks you're You-Know-Who…"_

"I am _not _the Dark Lord!" Jane added forcefully.

"Then who are you?" Hermione shrieked, jabbing the air with her wand.

"I'm – I'm Jane Smith!"

"No you're not!"

"Well, maybe not under that exact name!  But I am most certainly not – You-Know-Who!"

"How about a Death Eater, then?"

"Don't be ridiculous!  Of course not!"

"How can I know?  And why are you in color now?!  Harry told me all about Tom Riddle, how Tom Riddle's image became clearer as he sapped the life from Ginny!"

Jane was struck dumb for a few moments.

_"'…as he sapped the life from Ginny.'"  Lily rounded on Sirius.  "What, exactly _what_, is she talking about?"  Sirius seemed to know the most about Harry and his friends these days._

_"I – I don't know – what, has something happened to Ginny Weasley?" Sirius stammered.  "But why 'Tom Riddle' instead of 'Voldemort'?"_

"Listen, Hermione," said Jane weakly.  "I don't know why you think I'm evil all of a sudden…though I suppose, as Mad-Eye used to say, "Constant vigilance!"…but please, trust me, I'm not trying to hurt you.  I'm your friend, remember?  Now, I do want to hear about Ginny.  Has something happened to her?"

Hermione stood stock-still, her wand trembling in her hand.  Neither girl moved for a minute.  Then Hermione lowered the wand and collapsed onto the couch.

"I'm not giving you your wand back yet," she muttered.  "But I'll tell you.  It has to do with Salazar Slytherin and the purification of the wizarding race…"

_"'…and then Fawkes carried them out of the Chamber, and they went into the staff room and cleared everything up.  At least that's what they told me.'"  Lily closed her eyes when she had finished repeating Hermione's tale.  All three adults were silent._

"H-Harry did all that?" Jane asked in a small voice.  "When he was twelve?"

Hermione nodded, apparently preoccupied with other thoughts.

"Look, Hermione, I – I think I need to be alone for a while.  You don't mind, do you?  Oh – right – you still – well –"

"I don't think you're Voldemort anymore," interrupted Hermione, looking a bit shamefaced.

"Yes – well – that's terrific.  Er, do you think you'll be needing any of that Sleeping Sand today?  You know, the stuff I put in your teacup last time."

Hermione snorted.  "After my splendid performance tonight?  I'm tired enough without it.  Here's your wand, by the way.  I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about it.  Hey mister," said Jane, turning around, "take her back to Hogwarts now, will you?  Thank you for everything, Hermione…"

The giant otter bounded up to Hermione, who seated herself gingerly on its back.  It padded towards the doorway.  Hermione's eyelids were now drooping, but she had enough energy to lift a hand and give Jane a feeble wave as the otter carried her away.

"Wow," breathed James.  "So that's my son."

"That's my son," agreed Lily.

"That's my godson," said Sirius, looking away from the Potters.  "Do you know, Dumbledore told us about that incident once, while he was giving the new Order of the Phoenix some background info on Harry…I'd almost forgotten it, or I would have told you…but Dumbledore never made it clear how – how _brave _Harry was about it.  Or maybe he tried to, but I certainly didn't get it then….  Sometimes, I wonder if Harry ever really needed me, or if it was just wishful thinking on my part…"

"Sirius," said Lily gently, "Hermione says he never stops talking about you.  He misses you terribly.  I'll bet he needs you more than he needs us."  She looked at James, who made the faintest of nods.

Sirius smiled sadly.  "Thanks, but that's rubbish.  Remember the Mirror of Erised?  That's how Harry first saw his parents, you know."

Under the tea-table, James took Lily's hand and held it tight.__

Outside the Potters' bedroom window, the only light came from the stars.  Lily stared at them for a while, lost in thought.  Somewhere, very far away, Harry was going to his classes like any other boy…and Hermione was with him.

She rolled onto her other side and tapped James's shoulder.

"Mmm?"

"James, I just remembered something.  Hermione was the one who figured out that the monster in the Chamber of Secrets was a snake.  If she hadn't been holding that page in her hand, Harry and Ron wouldn't have known what to do."

James turned to face his wife sleepily.  "What are you getting at?"

"Well, she's perfect, isn't she?"

Her husband smiled.  "Yes, I suppose the Ministry around here does its job properly.  Now go to sleep!"

He buried his face back into his pillow.


	4. 4th Day

Quick note: now I realize that the year should be 1996, not 2004.  Whoops…

I owe a big thanks to Proud and Ashwin ("little miss narcissa" and "Ash") for being unbelievably patient beta readers/listeners with earlier chapters.  Also, Charl has been wonderful with reviewing, for which I'm very grateful.

Now, if nobody is deceiving me, I think one more person has read my story!  Viximon, thank you so much for reviewing.  It made me very very happy.  I think I'll drive myself mad, checking for reviews on the hour… I even had a dream (how appropriate) that my story had come to the front of the HP fanfic list (which it never has)… pathetic, isn't it?

In short, _please read and review. _:)

(Edit, 11 August 2003: I think I've fixed the mistake Molly Morrison caught, and switched "Divination" for "Charms."  Thanks!)

**To Dwell on Dreams: IV. 4th Day**

Something tasted very bad.  Hermione swallowed, then cursed herself for forgetting to brush her teeth the night before.  She had apparently also forgotten to change out of her robes.  The usual punishment for going to bed without getting ready first – disorientation – hit her full force, exacerbated by the persistent growling in her stomach.  She finally sat up on her bed, feeling very lousy indeed.  Luckily the room was empty.  Through the tangles of her bushy hair, she spotted a generous pile of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties at the foot of her bed … where had they come from?  Oh, right!  Harry had brought them up from the kitchens.  He must have had Parvati and Lavender carry her up, along with the food; or maybe she had stumbled into the dormitory herself, and just didn't remember …

In any case, she needed that food right now.  She ran to the bathroom to rinse her mouth, then proceeded to devour every single cake and pasty in under five minutes.  Her watch told her that breakfast in the Great Hall was long over, and lunch wouldn't start for another hour.  She might as well clean herself up properly in the meantime.

When lunchtime finally arrived, Hermione was among the first to sit down at the Gryffindor table.  She was so busy wolfing down sandwiches that she didn't hear Harry and Ron bickering as they approached.  Only when Harry sat down on her right side did she look up for an instant.

"Oh, hello," she greeted him before focusing once again on the food.

"Hi," replied Harry.  "Do you want to visit Hagrid with me after lunch?"

Hermione stopped chewing and thought for a minute.  She had actually hoped to spend a little more time in the library doing research on ghosts, or maybe search for Nearly Headless Nick…but after the fiasco of last night, did she really feel like nosing into the business of Jane's identity anymore?  Besides, right now Harry and Hagrid were perhaps the only people at Hogwarts she could still stand.  Last night Harry had offered to get her food from the kitchens before she'd even uttered a word of apology; and Hagrid was probably the only living person who ever bothered to listen to Hermione's troubles.  She swallowed her food.

"That sounds great," she answered in a business-like tone; "I haven't seen Hagrid for a while.  By the way, where's Ron?"  It struck her that Harry had voluntarily chosen to sit with her.  Or had Ron also stopped speaking to him?

"He's over there."  Harry jerked his head to the right.  Ron was sitting a few seats away on the other side of the table, poking at his salad in a decidedly disgruntled manner.  "Maybe you'd better talk to him today," Harry muttered.  "I don't think he's forgiven you for calling us 'stupid' yet."

Hermione was ready to tell Harry exactly what she thought of Ron's intelligence, but the word "us" echoed in her head.  She stared guiltily at her plate for a minute.  "Do you?" she finally asked without looking up.  "Forgive me, I mean.  I don't really think you're stupid – I was just in a foul mood that day."

Harry gave a short laugh.  "Believe me, I know the feeling.  Remember me last year?  Don't worry about it, Hermione.  And _I_ haven't said sorry yet, for not talking to you about – things.  It's just that – well, you're always doing work, so I've gotten used to talking to Ron most of the time.  You know?"

She nodded, though that seemed like a pretty weak excuse.  Did he really think she wouldn't have time to listen to her best friends?  Hadn't she always listened to him, and Ron, whenever they needed to vent their feelings about anything?  But nobody ever listened to her; no one except Hagrid, and maybe Jane, though last night Hermione had definitely blown it.  _"I think I need to be alone for a while," _Jane had said before essentially kicking her out of the place.  Oh, this was so pathetic, depending on a dead girl for friendship, a dead girl who, moreover, only existed in her dreams…

Before Hermione could stop them, her eyes welled up with tears and – to her burning humiliation – the tears started running down her cheeks.  "Hermione…" she heard Harry say nervously, but she was already pushing out her chair and standing up.

"C-can we visit Hagrid a little bit later?" she asked between hiccoughs.  "Or you can go ahead if you want…I'll be in the common room…"

She turned around and hurried out of the Great Hall.  Through her tears she dimly registered passing by Malfoy – "Aw, poor Granger, did a teacher tell you off for something?" – and later, Professor McGonagall, who looked at Hermione with some concern but said nothing.  Finally she reached the Gryffindor portrait hole.

"Fidelius," she said through sniffles.

"What's the matter, dearie?" asked the Fat Lady, kindly but very unhelpfully.

"Nothing – just – friend problems – could you open, please?"

"Well, I hope they turn out all right in the end," the Fat Lady sighed, and the portrait swung open not a second too soon.  Hermione climbed in, walked briskly past a few younger Gryffindors in the common room, ran up the stairs two by two, reached out to grab a handful of tissues from the box on her night-table…

"Hermione, you got a letter!"

_Damn.  _Parvati and Lavender – just the people she needed to see – why, oh, _why_ did they have to be here _right now_?  What kind of a letter was this, anyway?  She viciously snatched it from the owl chittering on her pillow.  It was from Viktor Krum.  She calmed down a bit …Viktor's letters always cheered her up.

"Are you OK?" Lavender asked, hopping off her bed to sit on Hermione's.

"Hmm?  Me?  Yes, of course," she answered absent-mindedly, dabbing her face with a very large bunch of tissues.

"You don't _look _OK…"

"Does it have to do with Harry and Ron?" said Parvati.  When would they leave her alone!

"No," Hermione lied.  She ran her finger down the lines written on Viktor's parchment, trying to concentrate well enough to read them.  After a few seconds of silence, she finally succeeded.  _Dear Hermione, I hope you have been feeling well, and not letting the war worry you too much…life is getting harder here at Durmstrang now that the students have divided almost in half, over which side they are taking…_

"Hermione."

She turned to Parvati with red-rimmed eyes.  "Yes?"

"We – we thought you might want to know something."

"Yeah, we overheard Harry and Ron this morning," said Lavender, "and Ron was saying he _would _have apologized to you already except you never gave him a chance, and Harry said that was true but Ron should try to corner you anyway –"

"And Ron refused, saying you look like you wanted to be left alone, and you're always working in the library, and basically – we think you should let him know what you really feel," Parvati finished quickly.

"What on earth are you talking about?" said Hermione, her voice still trembling from crying.

Parvati and Lavender looked at each other.

"You talk in your sleep," Lavender explained.  "I don't know if you remember, but you've been mumbling about Harry and Ron recently – about how you had a row, and all – isn't that right?" she asked suddenly, looking at Parvati for assurance.  Parvati nodded.

Hermione initially wanted to protest – the realization that Parvati and Lavender could hear her conversations with Jane was a nasty shock – but their faces looked so serious, and they werebeing much more thoughtful and considerate than she had ever given them credit for, that she didn't have the heart to argue…

In the end she just thanked them, dropped the letter on her bed, and went to the bathroom to wash her face.

Harry was sitting in an armchair, staring at the fire.  When he saw Hermione coming down the stairs he greeted her heartily, but Hermione could have sworn that his previous expression had been gloomy.

"Ready to go to Hagrid's?" he asked, obviously trying to bring the pitch of his voice up.

Hermione smiled tightly, hoping to avoid another crying spell, and nodded.

They kept silent all the way out of the castle, which suited Hermione.  She spent the time pondering, again, why she had met Jane…whether Jane was just created out of Hermione's loneliness, or by something altogether more sinister.  If Jane had spoken the truth – if she really was the ghost of a girl who had died at the hands of Death Eaters – why had she chosen to meet Hermione?  It seemed rather useless to entertain a sixteen-year-old Hogwarts student who couldn't really do anything, being an underage witch.  Then there was Hermione's earlier suspicion, that Jane really wanted info on Harry or Ron – Harry probably.  That could easily make Jane a vision sent by Voldemort to learn about his greatest foe, or – Hermione nearly laughed at the idea that Jane could be Harry's dead mum trying to check up on her son.  Perhaps what was most confusing was that Jane seemed to be genuinely trying to befriend her.  _She shouldn't have started, _thought Hermione despairingly, _because I'll never find a friend like that in real life…_

They were halfway across the field when Harry finally asked, "What's on your mind?"

Hermione hesitated.  What could she tell him?  _Harry, I'm annoyed because I've met a real best friend in my dreams and neither you nor Ron will ever match up to her?  _Ridiculous.  Plus, she felt much better keeping Jane a secret.  Then again – hadn't this whole row been about Harry not sharing his thoughts with her, shutting her out?  After the fuss she had made over that, she had no right to do the same.

"You know the feeling you get," she began, trying to put it into words, "when – when you've been living your life without thinking that much about what it _should _be like?  And then something comes along that shows you how much better things could be, and then you end up depressed because things aren't that way?"

"But that's exactly how I've been feeling!" said Harry almost indignantly.  "That's exactly it – I've been living without my parents all of my life, so I never knew that it could be different – then I finally met my godfather – and then, well, now he's gone, and it's back to the way things were before I even knew I had a godfather.  But Sirius made me see what it was like, to have a real parent who cared about me and whom I cared about.  Now he's dead, and the war's started, and I know at the end of this I'll have to – well, I know Voldemort's after me, and I really miss Sirius!"  His voice cracked.  "I mean, you and Ron are great, but you're my best friends, not my parents!"

A ringing silence fell after that last remark.  They had stopped walking.

"That's terrible," Hermione finally said, in a voice barely above a whisper.  At least she still had her mum and dad!  "Harry, I'm really sorry … not that saying that helps any, but …"

"It's okay," muttered Harry.  "It's just nice that you listened."  They started walking again in silence.  Then he asked: "So what about you?  What's missing for you? … I notice you've started eating again, that was a smart idea."

She blushed.  "I wasn't really starving myself on _purpose_ …"

"Right …"

"Well, who could I talk to at meals?  You and Ron not speaking to me, Ginny always with fifth-years or Dean Thomas … and I was also spending a lot of time doing some private research in the library."

"Private research?  I should have expected something like that … what on?"

But just then, the door to Hagrid's hut swung open and Hagrid himself emerged a few yards ahead, heaving an unusually large sack in one hand.  They stopped in their tracks.

"Well, if it ain't Hermione an' Harry!" he greeted them in the usual cheery manner.  "How've yeh been?"

"Good," lied the pair automatically.

"What's in _that_?" asked Hermione, eyeing the sack.

"This?  This here's … just some potion ingredients I gotta get to Professor Snape," Hagrid muttered.  "Sorta urgent, he said … better get 'em to him soon as possible … sorry I couldn' ask yeh to stay fer a visit, but yeh'll walk me to the castle, won't yeh?"

 Seeing as they had already turned in that direction, there didn't seem to be any reason not to.  Acting cheerful around Hagrid turned out not to be too hard for either of them – and by the time they climbed through the Gryffindor portrait hole (the Fat Lady mercifully didn't ask after Hermione's "friend problems"), they were genuinely in much better spirits.

Ron sat in the corner, writing on a long roll of parchment.  Hermione wasn't sure where to go, but Harry grabbed her wrist and steered her in Ron's direction.  "Stop it, Harry," she hissed, but he ignored her.  Parvati's and Lavender's advice was still on her mind.  Instead of putting her at ease, it had taken from her the option of being completely horrible to Ron; but she wasn't sure she was ready to be anything else just yet.

"Hey Ron," said Harry loudly, "what's that you're writing?"

Ron glanced at Harry's hand around Hermione's wrist.  He looked from Harry to Hermione with an indecipherable expression on his face.  Finally he answered politely: "I'm doing my Transfiguration homework.  Have either of you started?"

Both shook their heads.

"You might want to," Ron warned them; "this assignment's brutal, and I haven't even touched the other homework yet."

Hermione suddenly remembered Viktor's letter.  "I'll be back," she said quickly before going to fetch it from her room, along with a blank roll of parchment.  When she returned, Harry had started his Charms assignment.  The three of them worked fairly quietly until Harry suggested dinner – Hermione seconded it – and the trio headed to the Great Hall.

Before the others had finished stuffing themselves properly, Ron excused himself.

"I need to practice on my broomstick," he explained.  "Don't want to lose the first match for Gryffindor, do I?  I'll be fine by myself," he said quickly, when Harry looked about to say something.  "You two really should get your homework started, it's taking a lot longer than I thought it would."

Harry stared after him, looking puzzled.

"Well, that went fairly well, didn't it?" declared Hermione brightly.  "Considering neither of us really apologized…"

"He's not happy about something," mused Harry.  "But if he were mad at us, he would have said so straightaway.  I wonder what's wrong?"

Crookshanks was back in the Gryffindor tower.  He had taken to wandering around the Forest for days on end before returning to Hogwarts, his yellow eyes gleaming with the light of exploration.  After Hermione had finished cooing over him for a good ten minutes, she carried him out of her room and went downstairs to the fifth-years'.  Ginny was sitting on one of the four-posters, her back to Hermione.

"Guess who's back?" Hermione called out, beaming.

"CROOKSHANKS!" Ginny squealed before dropping down and crawling towards the cat.  Hermione took a seat on the floor, cross-legged.

"I've barely seen you for the past week," said Ginny reproachfully.  Hermione looked up from Crookshanks and realized Ginny was addressing her.

"Me?  Oh, I've been here," Hermione said vaguely; "but I suppose you were too caught up in staring deep into Dean's eyes…"  Ginny swatted her, and they giggled.  It was just like their nighttime conversations in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place: a little girly, but still great fun.  Hermione found that she hardly cared about Jane Smith anymore; why worry about a ghostly dream vision when there were real people she got on with?

This sense of blithe abandon came to a height after Ginny had tired of relating woeful tales about Dean.  The red-headed fifth-year leaned in and muttered, ""By the way … has my git of a brother started speaking to you yet?"

Hermione stared at her.  Then she laughed outright, and it seemed as though a great burden had just been lifted from her chest.  "Yes, he has," she said gleefully.  "He's talking to me again, and Crookshanks is back, and I've got you all as friends, and – and – oh, everything's so perfect and wonderful!  Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, …" she sang, dancing out of the room and down the stairs, feeling perfectly loony, and barely hearing Ginny's yell of, "I _knew _you liked him!"

Harry stared at her with interest as she waltzed through the crowded common room towards him.  "There's nothing wrong with me," she assured him in her normal voice; "I'm just very happy right now!"

"That's … good," said Harry, grinning nervously – or rather, grinning weakly.  He must have been thinking about Sirius before she entered the room.  Her giddiness receded a bit.

"Harry, please, don't think about it.  Right now we're at boarding school, it's not like Sirius could be here –"

"Actually," cut in Harry, "I wasn't thinking of Sirius at all."

"What?  Really?  What were you thinking of, then?  You look a bit down."

"I was wondering," said Harry slowly, "what it is that, well, you said you were missing.  You know, what could be better.  In your life."

She looked at him very carefully.  Was he being bitter?  Did he think she had no reason to complain?  She opened her mouth, about to ask why he wanted to know – and then she saw it.

His eyes.

His eyes were _green_.  Almond-shaped, sparkling green …

They were exactly the same as Jane's …

She got to her feet and kicked back her chair.

_"I saw my mum and dad … and my mum had the same eyes as me …"_

But that was ridiculous.  Harry's mum couldn't have been sixteen when she died!

_She never said she was sixteen…_

_She was killed by Voldemort…_

How could it be, that Jane Smith, a girl from her dreams, had suddenly become Lily Potter?  The reality of the situation hit her.

_She asked after Harry …_

Lily Potter …

Lily Potter …

"Hermione!"  Harry stood up.  "Hermione, what's the matter?"

Lily Potter …

The pieces clicked into place, everything made sense …

"_Hermione!_"

Jane Smith …

The portrait opened.  A crop of red hair appeared in the crawlway.  Ron was back, just in time for the 9 o'clock curfew.  He automatically looked around the room for Harry or Hermione, but he didn't have to look very hard; every Gryffindor present had turned towards them.  Harry was standing in the middle of the room, frantically shaking a limp Hermione in his arms.

"_What happened to her?_" Ron demanded, jogging over to them and glaring suspiciously at Harry.

Harry stared at him with fearful eyes.  "I – I don't know!  She just went out like that!"

Ron examined Hermione's face.

"And why is she _smiling_?"

Harry froze.  "_What?_" he yelped.  But Ron was right; Hermione's mouth had definitely curved upwards into a smile.  He looked back up at Ron, completely bewildered.  Ron was still gazing at Hermione.

"She looks like she's asleep …"

"_She just fainted!_" Harry screamed at him, while other people in the common room murmured in agreement.

**Author's Note**, again: Ha, did you like the ending?  Okay, from the looks of this, I'll have to split days into separate chapters.  Didn't realize this would be that long, the story might end up being six or seven chapters instead of five … oh well.  Planning on dishing out a healthy helping of Lily's life in the next chapter, that should be fun …


	5. 4th Night, 5th Day, 5th Night

'Tis me, the author.  Just letting reviewers know that I love you all, and I apologize for Ron's behavior during this story.  I don't dislike him, really – you just don't get to see his best side here.

**To Dwell on Dreams: V. 4th Night, 5th Day, 5th Night__**

"… oh, you should hear some of the things she's said to the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney!  Did you ever take Divination with her?" asked Hermione, hoping she sounded offhand.

"Mm, I don't think she was there then, and I never took Divination … but I can imagine what McGonagall might tell a teacher she doesn't respect.  McGonagall was definitely the best…"  Jane sighed reminiscently.

How long had Professor McGonagall been teaching, again?  Thirty-nine years … and when Umbridge had tried to sack Trelawney, Trelawney had screeched something about being at Hogwarts for sixteen years … so, judging by the numbers, Jane could have easily been Harry's mother.  Hermione smiled triumphantly.  Now she just had to check a couple more things.

"Erm, I've been wondering.  I hope this isn't a sensitive question, but … did you die while you were at Hogwarts?"

Jane turned sharply to her.  "How old do I look?"

"Oh, I don't know … I thought maybe you … well, I was just being stupid – but – but people always say Hogwarts is the safest place anyone can be, right?"  Hermione fervently hoped she didn't sound suspicious.  Jane scrutinized her for a moment.

"You're right, I wasn't at Hogwarts.  I don't think Professor Dumbledore would ever let anyone at Hogwarts come to harm."

"But where did you stay, if your parents were dead?"

"By then my sister was old enough to have a place of her own," said Jane airily.

"Your sister saw you die?"

"N-no, but – er, can we talk about something else?  Only that I'm not too thrilled to relive my death, you know …"

"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Hermione, wondering guiltily if that excuse were partly true.  "I'm sorry."

"For example, now that you've _sort _of made up with your best friends" – Hermione looked indignant – "well honestly, you didn't even _apologize _to both of them properly – I was curious, what is it like having guys as your best friends?"

That was Hermione's cue to launch a tirade about everything from being made a "scarlet woman" by Rita Skeeter to having to listen about Quidditch all the time; Jane started to snort with laughter when Hermione got to the bit about Ron and Harry being too thick to understand how other people thought.  Hermione rounded on her.

"I'm serious!" she protested.  "Sometimes I wish Parvati and Lavender – those are the Gryffindor girls in my year – were a bit less girly, and Ron and Harry a bit more so!"

"_A bit more girly?_" Jane repeated, giggling all the harder.  "You know, you really shouldn't expect so much from your friends … even your best friends …"

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, glaring as Jane shook with spasms of laughter.  "Well, you yourself called the boys in your year 'terrors.'"

"They _were_," insisted Jane, "but not because they were – ha ha – too – _manly_ –"

Hermione grabbed a nearby cushion and hurled it at Jane, who hit it back.  The rest of the night was spent in similar fashion, concluding only when Hermione's eyes would no longer stay open.

It was lucky for Hermione that she had enjoyed Jane's company so much that night.  The next day made up for it.

"Morning," she greeted Ron and Harry briskly, sitting down at the table.  She immediately busied herself with breakfast.  After a few seconds, however, she noticed that neither of the boys had said a word.  She eyed them in turn; both boys' lowered faces looked furious.

"What's the matter with you two?"

"Why did you faint yesterday?" asked Harry sharply.

Hermione, who was reaching for an omelet, stopped moving abruptly.  Had she fainted?  Now she remembered … it was right after she had realized that Jane was Harry's mother.  But that wasn't something she would tell Harry.

"I don't know," she answered tersely.

"Well," said Ron, who was finally looking her in the face, "you _said _it was because of Harry's _eyes_."

"I – I said that?"

"Is that the reason?  Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think Harry's eyes normally make you fall over unconscious."

Hermione remained silent.

"Well, is it?" Ron repeated, more forcefully.

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because you and Harry refuse to tell me anything!  What kind of friends are you, anyway?"

"Ha!" cried Hermione triumphantly, pointing a finger at Ron.  "Listen to that!  That is exactly what I was saying before, take _that, _you hypocritical –"

"Don't try to change the topic!"

Hermione shook her head and dropped an omelet onto her plate.  "I don't _believe _it," she muttered, chopping the omelet viciously.  "Another row – once a week just isn't good enough, is it? … What happened to you both, after I went to bed?"

"I don't know, ask _him,_" Harry said, jerking his head towards Ron, "but you'd better tell us why you really fainted, before Ron starts thinking I knocked you out with a club in the middle of a room full of people!"

Hermione turned to Ron, who was glaring murderously at Harry.

"What is going on?" she demanded again.  "I passed out for a minute or two, it's as simple as that.  Maybe I've been working too hard.  Maybe I haven't been eating.  It's up to you – pick a cause that suits you, because there are some things I consider private, all right?"

"_Private_, indeed," snarled Ron, getting up and marching away from the table.  Harry looked like he was ready to follow suit, but before leaving, he turned to Hermione.

"I _would _keep talking to you," he said in a loud carrying voice, "except Ron's afraid I'll smash your skull while his back's turned – or worse, actually have a conversation with you without him knowing all about it."

He stalked out of the Great Hall.  Hermione faced her omelet again, which had been mercilessly sliced into countless tiny pieces – _Did I do that? _she wondered briefly.  She speared a piece and lifted it, but it flopped off before it had reached her mouth.  _Perfect, _she thought bitterly.

As usual, homework came to the rescue on what would otherwise have been a very miserable day.  The library welcomed Hermione with open arms, even if Madam Pince did not.  She settled into a corner and remained there until 9 o'clock, though this time she remembered to go to lunch and dinner; luckily Ginny seemed to be taking a break from Dean's company, so she wasn't alone.

Nevertheless, by the time she hopped off Mister at Jane's cabin, she was very ready to start on a long rant about the unfairness of life in general.  But the sight of Jane, who looked rather edgy, checked that urge.

"Hey," said Jane, smiling weakly and sweeping her toes nervously against the floor.  She was standing in the front room today, instead of practicing the piano or reading.  Mister made himself scarce.

"Is there something the matter?" Hermione asked, with much more concern than she had shown Ron and Harry that morning.

"No," sighed Jane, still smiling feebly, "but I have something to tell you."

"That's funny.  I have something to tell you too."  _Though, on second thoughts, _she realized, _Jane might not be too proud of me for it._

Jane looked as if she was considering the matter for a moment.  Then she said, "Sure, out with it."

"Should we go in?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot, sorry."  She grinned.  "What kind of a hostess am I."  They headed into the next room and settled themselves back on the usual couch.

"I'm really confused," began Hermione.  "Now, Ron and Harry aren't speaking to me again" – Jane raised her eyebrows – "but I don't think they're speaking to each other, either.  Which isn't terribly good for anyone."

"Why, what happened?"

"I don't know, but it had something to do with me passing out last night."

"You _passed out_?  Why?  You've started eating again, haven't you?  _Haven't you?_" she repeated more emphatically.

"Of course I have," Hermione said shortly.  But how long could she refrain from answering the first question?  It was only fair that she told Jane the truth; it involved Jane, after all.  She sucked in her breath.  "It's because I was talking to Harry, and then I noticed – I noticed how similar his eyes were to yours," she finished quietly.  There was a pause.

"And?" said Jane finally, her eyes wide with comprehension.

"You're Harry's mum, aren't you?"

To her surprise, Jane's face burst into a relieved grin.

"Yes, yes, you're right.  I'm Lily Potter.  Do you know, that saves me a lot of discomfort today.  So you've known all along who I was –"

"Not _all along,_" Hermione protested.  "Just these two times."

"Well, that's good enough, because I've been feeling a bit uneasy about calling myself 'Jane Smith' all this time … even if I was just following the rules …"

"Rules?"

"Everyone gets a page of rules about the business, and we're supposed to keep them until the time comes.  A lot of people lose them before it's their turn, but I got my turn early, just as I requested the Ministry."  She paused for breath, and looked appraisingly at Hermione's bewildered expression.  "That didn't make a jot of sense, did it."

"Not actually," Hermione admitted.  "Could you start from the beginning, please?"

"Of course.  Now, I've sort of rehearsed this, but I might still leave out bits and pieces by accident.  I mean, I've been dead these fifteen years or so, and there are some things that may appear obvious to me that will sound like complete rubbish to you.  Just – just interrupt me if you don't get something, OK?"

Hermione nodded; Jane continued.

"You see, every witch or wizard who dies and doesn't become a ghost – and most of us don't, you know how the Hogwarts ghosts are always whining about it – anyways, the truly dead witches and wizards just go onto a sort of afterlife.  It's a poor imitation of life, with no magic or colors or too many frills; still, it's quite all right, and I'm loads happier now than I was in the last few years of my life.  I don't know a single dead person who isn't content, actually.  But back to the point.  Now, the Ministry up here, which, I can assure you, is much more effective than your Ministry of Magic, divides witches and wizards into different categories.  I happen to be in the category of 'people whose lives were cut short for no good reason.'"

"In your case, being killed by Voldemort?"

"Exactly.  And the Ministry thinks that's rather unfair, as I believe most people do, so they've devised a system that allows every one of us to form an unbreakable bond with a living person at some point in eternity.  And that's especially useful because many of us had goals we didn't finish during life.  The Ministry handles everyone's requests, and they try to pair up people based on how similar their personalities are."

"Wait.  Are you saying that _I'm _the living person who's the most similar to you, _ever_?"

"Not quite," Jane corrected her, "because the Ministry also takes into account how useful the two people will be to each other."

Hermione considered that point.  Had Jane been useful to her yet?  Not really, but – she _was _a great friend.  As for her own usefulness to Lily Potter, Hermione was one of the two people closest to Lily's son.

"Picking people with similar personalities is also important," Jane explained, "because this bond has to be created within four days.  Five, if you count the last day, when we explain it all, like I'm explaining it to you.  That sounds like a really short time to get to know someone, but the Ministry's pretty good with choosing people who will click.  I mean, I think we've done pretty well" – she looked apprehensively at Hermione, who nodded and smiled shyly – "and out of the billions of people who have done this in the past, only seventeen actually botched up the process badly.  The Ministry took full responsibility for it, though, so they all got second chances."

"Sorry to butt in, but – where are all of these dead people?  It looks like you're the only one around here."

Jane smiled.

"I am.  But that's because you're not really seeing Lily Potter.  I'm just a vision, left on the living earth to meet you whenever you are ready.  That's why I appear to you as your own age."

"But …"

"The Ministry gives all witches and wizards that died untimely deaths limited control over two bodies.  So right now, in the afterlife, I'm actually sipping a cup of Earl Grey tea.  That doesn't require too much concentration.  The rest of my attention is focused on telling you what's been going on."

Hermione stared blankly at Jane, trying to sort it out.  "So … you're in two different places at once, doing two different things, as long as you don't need to think too hard in both of them …"

"That's right, but my two existences are more independent than you might think.  They were both created at the time of my death, but they have lived separate lives since then – that's why Sirius's death came as a shock to me, on that first day.  Of course I've already met Sirius, but my existence here didn't know that – not until later, when I realized that I had finally met you, and I made sure to concentrate on being Jane during the rest of our talks.  That sounds like gibberish, but you have to experience it to know what it's really like."

Hermione let it sink in before voicing her next question.  "And … because you, as Jane, are not in the afterworld, your eyes are still green, and you can do magic …"

"Well, yeah," said Jane, shifting uncomfortably for some reason.

"But if you're on the living earth, can't I find you while I'm awake?"

Jane shook her head slowly.  "This log cabin is on an unmapped part of the world that you could never find by yourself – you have to be taken there in your sleep by someone like Mister."  The giant otter, upon hearing his name, padded over to the couch and flopped down at their feet.

"But I'll keep seeing you in my dreams, then?" asked Hermione uncertainly.

"No," said Jane quietly.  Hermione's heart sank.  "It ends after tonight … but we'll meet again whenever one of us is truly in need of the other.  We might never meet again, if we're – lucky.  Or maybe we'll meet just one more time.  But we will never again see each other for five days at a time, like we just have, until after you die, when we're in the same world."

Hermione swallowed, feeling suddenly a bit lost.  She absent-mindedly stroked Mister's fur.

"From what I've seen of you," Jane added, "I gather that we'll both miss each other.  I'll miss you a lot, for sure.  But there was something Professor Dumbledore told me once – he must have told it to everyone who's ever seen that enchanted mirror – I believe he said, 'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.'  And I know you've been getting into a lot of squabbles with the people you care about most, but … that's your life, you can't change it, and there are so many good things about it, even if you don't notice them all the time.  Nobody should depend on dreams for happiness."

Both girls lapsed into thought.  Finally Jane broke the silence:

"Have I explained everything?"

Hermione nodded numbly, hoping that this wasn't the end.  It couldn't be.  Jane couldn't disappear from her life, just like that!

Jane lowered her eyes.  After a minute of awkward silence, she looked up.  "And now I need to ask of you a – a favor."

_Anything to keep the end from coming, _Hermione thought to herself.  "What is it?"

"I swear I won't do anything without your express permission, but what you told us – what you told me two days ago, about Ginny Weasley and – the Dark Lord … it gave me an idea.  But I swear I won't do it if you won't let me."

"What do you want to do?" asked Hermione, wondering what could make Jane so ill at ease.

"Well, this is my last chance to do it.  At least for a while."

She took a deep breath.

"I'd like to see my son again."


	6. Starting Over

**To Dwell on Dreams: VI. Starting Over**

Hermione lay stretched on the couch as Jane circled it, pointing her wand at Hermione and muttering incantations.

"Dominatio Inocuus …"

Hermione's field of vision shrank, Jane disappeared from its outskirts …

"Anima Corpus … Compactio …"

The room turned black …

"Incepto."

And she was back in her bed in Gryffindor Tower.

She sat up shakily, shoving the bedsheets away from her.  Her legs carried her out of the shadowy room silently, down the stairs, into the common room … she felt herself moving her legs, but could she stop them if she tried?

_If you don't want to do this anymore, it's all right.  It's really OK._

I don't mind, she answered, heading for the stairway to the boys' dormitory.  She trod on each step gingerly, one at a time, up to the first floor.

_Is he here?_

No.

She climbed another flight.

_Here?_

Yes, in that room.

Hermione tiptoed through the door, past Neville and Ron.  Harry was curled up on his side, fast asleep.  For a moment, she just stood there, watching him; then she took him around the shoulders and gently shook him awake.  His eyes flipped open and landed on her.  Hermione quickly put a finger to her lips.  "Shh, don't wake the others.  Come with me."

She grabbed one of his hands.  Harry pushed himself up with the other and swung his legs over the bed.  He picked his glasses off his bedside table, putting them on clumsily as Hermione pulled him away.  They crept out of the room.

"Hmione, whazgoingon?" he mumbled, his eyelids drooping.

"Shh."

They hurried down the staircase as quietly as possible, Hermione's hand still gripping Harry's.  She kept glancing sideways at him; Hermione had a feeling Jane was trying to take in every detail of his appearance.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry repeated, "What's going on?  Where are we going?"

She steered him to a leather armchair in the common room and sat down in one opposite him.  Harry squinted sleepily at her.  She stared back, examining his scar, his eyes …

"What're you trying to do?" he asked confusedly.

She sighed heavily, looking down, and fingered a strand of her untidy brown hair.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice was whispering words she couldn't make out …

Her hair twisted between her fingers.  It grew longer, straighter, brighter … red.  She felt her face contract; it was now slightly thinner.  Her legs stretched and lengthened, as did her fingers … her skin lightened … everything about her body was steadily transforming into Lily Potter at the age of twenty-two … 

When it was finished, she met Harry's gaze again.  His eyes were no longer half-closed, but wide and shocked; his whole face trembled with suppressed hope.

"H-Hermione, how did you do that?"

She looked sadly at him.  "I'm not Hermione," she corrected him in a new, slightly lower voice – Lily's.  "I'm your mother, Harry."

"You're not," Harry insisted, shaking his head, but not taking his eyes off her.  "You can't be … the dead can't come back!"

"I haven't come back," Lily said quickly.  "I'm just borrowing Hermione for a bit – with her permission, of course."

Harry's expression switched from disbelief to anger.  "Hermione, stop it.  Now.  This isn't funny."  His face was white and shaking.

Tears pricked the corners of Lily's eyes.  "I'm really not Hermione," she said, her voice quavering.  "Please, Harry … trust me …"

Harry was silent.  He seemed to be scrutinizing her for signs of dishonesty.

"I only have a minute to speak with you," Lily continued in a more urgent tone.  "I just – I just want to comfort you, somehow.  I know there are rough times ahead of you … but you're not as alone as you feel, even if we – your Dad and I, and Sirius – don't live in your world anymore.  And" – her voice rose – "I have finally found a true successor who will look after you, now that I can't."

"A successor?" Harry repeated.  "What do you mean?  Who is it?"

Lily barely hesitated.  "Hermione."

Harry's eyes narrowed.  He leaned away from her, clearly not about to trust anything else she said.

"I – I don't know how to make you believe me," said Lily desperately.  "This isn't some twisted joke – I really am your mother – oh, Harry!"  She smothered her mouth with her hands, forcing in the cry that had been about to escape.  Harry looked as though he wanted to reach out to her, but his hands stayed in his lap.  There was an uncomfortable pause.  Finally, in a gentler voice, he asked:

"Why is Hermione your 'successor'?  How can she look after me?  She's just my friend!"

"That's not true," Lily argued, lowering her hands.  A moment passed; suddenly a trace of a smirk flitted across her face.  "She's also _my _friend."

The effect was instantaneous.

"What!" Harry yelped.  "How could you know her?"

"I've gotten to know her just this week," she explained.  "That sounds impossible, I know, but – Hermione is the one living person I _can _still meet.  There's a middle ground, between your world and my world … it's the world of dreams … that's where Hermione and I see each other.  From now on, Hermione will be able to meet me whenever something comes up – that includes when you're in trouble.  I didn't have much time to be your mother while I was alive, but in a way, through her, I can still take care of you."

Harry pondered this for a moment.

"Why did you pick _Hermione_ to be the one person you can still meet?" he questioned her at last.  "Why didn't you just choose … well … me, for instance?"

"It wasn't up to me," she said patiently.  "The conditions were that my successor would be someone I'd never met before.  She must have been chosen because she's a close friend of yours and, actually, she's a lot like me.  But listen, Harry, this is important – you can't ignore her like you did today, and like you've done a lot in the past, I hear."  Harry looked a bit taken aback.  "She's my successor … listen to what she has to say … if you shut her out, you shut me out as well.  Not to mention that it makes her miserable.  Will you promise me that you'll stay her friend?"

"I – I promise," Harry stammered uncertainly.

Lily smiled.  "You're a good boy."  She reached over to push aside Harry's fringe, revealing the scar.  Harry's eyes shifted awkwardly to the floor.

"It's a terrible burden to carry," she murmured, "that prophecy, especially at your age … but we're all rooting for you, Harry.  James and Sirius love you fiercely … the Order of the Phoenix will do all they can to keep you safe … you've got your best mate, Ron Weasley … and Hermione cares about you more than she shows."

Her hands moved to cradle his face.  Harry's eyes suddenly darted back up to her, and he said, "Mum – can I ask you something?"

"That depends on what it is," Lily answered with a shadow of a grin, dropping her hands into her lap.

"Does – does Sirius forgive me?  If I hadn't gone into the Department of Mysteries, he would still be alive … and do _you _forgive me, for making Voldemort kill you?  I – I've brought all of this on you, and Dad, and Sirius – and even Cedric –"

Lily interrupted him before he could get too caught up in his wretchedness.  "Harry, none of this was your fault.  You realize that, don't you?  Anyway, the three of us – your father, Sirius, and I – have to bear our own guilt of leaving you with only Petunia and that dratted Vernon for guardians.  You have done nothing that requires our forgiveness.  James and Sirius have said this themselves," she added, after seeing Harry shake his head disbelievingly.  "And I can speak for myself; I never, ever regret having died to save you."

Harry turned away, blinking a bit more rapidly than usual.

"You make us proud, you know," said Lily fondly, "not just for all the things you've done, but the way you, as a person, turned out despite all these – all these hardships.  You could easily have grown up to be toughened and bitter ….  But Harry," – the next words caught in her throat – "I have to leave you now.  My time's up."

"Wait," he said hastily –

"There's nothing I can do."  She was already transforming back into Hermione as she spoke.  "Just remember what I've told you … remember that you're not completely on your own …"

And with that, Lily was gone.

Hermione broke away from Harry's gaze quickly.  Could she control her own actions yet?  She lifted a finger from her knee and put it back down.  Good.  But she didn't know where to look next.  She glanced at Harry, who had chosen a spot to stare at on Hermione's right.  All she could hear was his breathing; she tried to keep her own as soft as possible.

Finally Hermione couldn't stand the tense silence anymore.

"Harry – yesterday when I fainted – that was when I realized that the girl in my visions was your mother."

Harry turned to her, astonishment plain in his face.  "You said it was my eyes …"

"They're the same as hers!"

He stared at her, open-mouthed, finally comprehending … but a sudden movement in the shadows caused both of them to whirl in the direction of the staircase to the boys' dormitory.  Ron had emerged from hiding behind the doorway.  He looked pale.

"Ron!  W-what are you doing up?" asked Harry, flabbergasted.

"I don't know what made me wake up," Ron said, walking timidly over to them, "but I saw your bed was empty – I wondered where you went."  He turned his dazed eyes on Hermione.  "So that's what it was, then?  You're Harry's mum's – 'successor'!"

Hermione's pensive mood evaporated swiftly.  Had Ron forgotten that he had barely spoken to her all week?  She resolutely closed her mouth and stared icily back at him.

"I mean, ah" – he looked nervously at Harry, then the floor – "I guess I had the wrong idea about things."

Hermione saw Harry glance at her out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't care.  She was going to sit it out till Ron acknowledged that he'd been a thoughtless, overreacting jerk.  This was one time she would not forgive him so readily …

"It's OK," she heard Harry say suddenly.  "Forget about it."  She glared at Harry accusingly.  He gave her an incredibly annoying, this-is-the-right-thing-to-do look.  Ron was watching her apprehensively; he quickly looked down when she caught his eye.

"That's the closest you'll ever get to an apology, isn't it?" she shot at Ron spitefully.  He continued to stare at the floor.  Defeated, she exhaled shakily.  "OK, whatever then," she muttered.

Ron lifted his gaze to her and gave her a rueful smile.  Hermione wanted to kick him.  But just then, he opened his mouth to speak:

"I'm sorry, Hermione.  I'm sorry, Harry."

They gaped at him, lost for words.

Harry was the first to make another sound.  "Wish I could have recorded that," he said, starting to grin.

"Hey!" protested Ron, before looking back at Hermione anxiously.  Hermione gazed at him in wonder.  Ron freely used many words Hermione would only refer to by their first letters; but after five years in his company, she had learned never to expect this particular S-word from him.

"Am I dreaming again?" she asked the air, then shuddered a little, remembering Jane.  She firmly pushed the memory out of her mind.  "I honestly can't tell if I am, anymore," she continued as though nothing had happened.  "I'm so exhausted …"

"Me too," said Harry.  "You woke me up, remember?"

"Oh, right."  She didn't have the energy to sound ashamed.  "Well, I'm off to bed.  Good night."  She hoisted herself off the chair into a standing position.  Harry shot her a tight little smile, clearly still contemplating what had happened.  She returned the smile and glanced at Ron before concentrating on the task at hand: staggering over to the other staircase.

From behind her, Harry said, "Let's go up," to which Ron mumbled his assent.

A couple of minutes later, Hermione turned off the faucet in the girl's bathroom and dried her hands on a nearby towel.  She yawned widely, wondering how late it was.  In the wide-spanning bathroom mirror, she inspected the reflection of a small window high up on the opposite wall.  The sky seemed to be lightening a little.  She glanced quickly at herself in the mirror, ready to go back to bed – 

Her eyes were still green?!

She blinked – no, they were brown, as usual.  She must have been imagining things.

But before she could completely dismiss the incident as the product of a sleep-deprived mind, a voice in her head interrupted her:

_Er__, I just wanted to make sure everything worked out OK before I left … I'm going now, really._

The voice was so faint … she could easily have imagined that, too …

But what did it matter?  If that had really been Jane (which it couldn't have been, she told herself sternly), Jane would have nothing to worry about – everything _had _worked out OK.

Parvati and Lavender were snoring lightly when Hermione finally crawled up on her mattress.  As she closed her eyes, she felt a strange burst of affection for her roommates.  She no longer viewed them as silly girls whose only purpose in life was to giggle loudly whenever Hermione wanted to focus on homework.  If she hadn't been so jealous of their friendship – a fact she finally admitted to herself – she would have seen long ago that they were as capable of good and sensible deeds as she was.  They were just of a different "type," as Jane had said.  Maybe one day, Hermione, too, would feel no guilt in giggling about what she now deemed inconsequential matters.  _"Freedom and happiness for all types …"_

Thanks to Jane, she was beginning to understand the point of winning the war that was raging outside Hogwarts.

But meanwhile, she could dwell on the things that had happened within this school's walls.  Ron had uttered a proper apology for perhaps the first time in his life – certainly the first time in Hermione's presence.  Harry had met his mother fifteen years after her death.  Hermione had suddenly become his mother's "successor" – oh, the word seemed magical in itself!

Could it be that Harry had found a parent at last?  Hermione shivered to think that, in a way, _she _was taking Lily Potter's place.  And in the process, she had found a best friend – or two, or three.  She could want for nothing more.

She smiled and snuggled herself more comfortably under the covers.  Happy thoughts whizzed through her head in circles; she wondered how she would ever fall asleep with the commotion they were causing.  But fall asleep, she finally did – and tonight, her sleep was dreamless.

THE END

**Author's End-of-Story Ramble: **Well, there it is.  Hope you liked it.  Let me tell you, each of these chapters was five times longer than my usual English paper, and have I just spent a _month _writing this fanfic?  Disturbing.  This chapter, especially, was really difficult to write.  But lots of fun.

Would you know, the total number of reviews for this story jumped from 14 to 30 after I posted the fifth chapter.  First page!  This story finally ended up, for once, on the first page!  A dream come true, literally (not kidding, I think I mentioned it in an earlier chapter).  I do dearly hate Fanfiction.net's system of updating the listing periodically … but what can I say, it's free.  Anyways.  Thank you thank you to all reviewers.  Very heartening, it is, to know that people are reading something I've worked way too hard on.  Especial thanks to Ceire for getting more people to read this, and little miss narcissa and Ash for lots of beta-reading!

Oh right.  Before I forget.  A big thanks to J.K ROWLING!

Now, this is something I did _not _plan.  "Expecto Patronum" apparently means "to await the protector" … hmm.


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